


The celebration in Analand

by Photosynthetic_People



Series: Swords and Starlight [4]
Category: Sorcery (Video Game), Steve Jackson's Sorcery! - Steve Jackson
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M, Fingering, Improper use of magic, Not well beta read, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Self-Indulgent, Sex, Slow Dancing, TW mild yandere options are available to choose, Tw mentions of birth control, blowjob, choose your own fic, i had fun writing it, mc is on the potion equivalent of the pill, the pov of you as Flanker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24844561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Photosynthetic_People/pseuds/Photosynthetic_People
Summary: Flankers point of view of the celebrations following their victorious return to Analand. I was heavily inspired by Flanker's fate from inkle's facebook. It's a choose your own fic so I recommend going chapter by chapter using the chapter index and not using the next chapter button.
Relationships: Analander/Flanker, F!Analander/Flanker, Flanker/Analander
Series: Swords and Starlight [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798918
Comments: 19
Kudos: 20





	1. The Ball

They wish to throw a ball in the palace in honor of the heroes of Analand. To be part of the spectacle, to be paraded like a hero once more, being the center of a crowds attention. The very notion unnerves you.

She holds your hand and tells you softly. “You are a hero Flanker, you deserve to have a day of celebration however you wish. You needn’t attend in a conventional way, there are many rafters and windowsills that can be used.” She knows you well.

Three identical palace handmaidens help dress her. Initially they try to chase you away due to impropriety, they will not be rid of you so easily, she is out numbered, unarmed and almost nude it would be the perfect moment for an assassin disguised as a handmaiden to slit her throat.

She diverts their attention by asking in her mother tongue. “Why am I not allowed to go to the ball wearing armor and a sword?” The question prompted the three of them to clamor different responses all at once.

They argue with each other, putting her into a constricting dusty pink dress with puffy sleeves, the dress so tight she can only take shallow, half breaths. “It’s too tight.” She gasps.

“Oh no, that is the style of the dress. Form fitting gowns are very in right now.” One of them beams.

“The color washes her out.” One of them declares. You are sure the fact she’s struggling for breath has more to do with her loss of color than a pink gown.

“You are blind!” A second one yells defensively.

“You both have no sense of fashion!” Echoes across the room. The Analander rolls her gold eyes looking thoroughly exhausted by the whole affair.

Next is a red dress low cut in the front lace covering her cleavage. It’s far too revealing, she has the body to wear such a dress however she looks more like a high priced courtesan than a nation's hero. You tell them such and the loudest of the handmaidens almost faints.

They settle on a simple dark green dress with an intricately laced bodice embroidered with leaves. The color suits her, you think as the handmaidens braid then tie her inky black hair up with several white ribbons.

They attempt to paint her face with rouge but she refuses to let them. She’s a rare beautiful creature that does not need to highlight her features to make herself look stunning. Though judging by the look on her face she just wants to be done with the whole ordeal; A sentiment you wholeheartedly agree with.

Once they leave she takes two silver pearl rings, a bronze jeweled necklace, and a thick bone bracelet from her pack. Each an accessory used in magic you are certain but you do not know what the bronze necklace does.

She peers into a large ornate silver mirror then looks longingly at her sword leaning against the wall; The same sword you gifted her. “I picked up the blade as a child at my father's insistence. I did not take to it well at first. Strange how I feel so naked without it now.”

“Eventually it becomes a part of you.” You state knowingly.

She rubs her wrist with a pensive look in her eyes for a fleeting moment; Which soon passes, a coquettish smile taking its place. “I’d ask you for the first dance tonight but I suspect I would have to spell you to get you on the dance floor.” You glare daggers at the thought of her spelling you to dance for her, she laughs in amusement at your reaction. “Don’t worry I seldom waste a spell for my own amusement.”

“Seldom does not mean never Analander.” You growl out distrustfully.

“True, but some spells have different uses. _fAL_ for example has many entertaining uses." She chimes, her eyes full of mischief.

........

You watch from the rafters as she’s introduced to a sea of people in the great white stone ballroom. Once again, she tells both crown and crowd her story; weaving illusions of Kharé’s gate with vicious goblin hordes, the seven serpents in their true size, writhing through the air above the crowds. Then finally the looming accursed towers of Mampang with an exaggeratedly powerful looking archmage; looking more like most in Analand would have expect, less like the cowardly shell he was.

The only part of her tale she has told that you know to be untrue is that the Archmage bound his soul to the crown. Giving her only one option: destroy it. She destroyed it because she saw the danger in the magical relic.

It’s a clever lie, one you cannot fault her for telling, her actions will enrage many in the Old World. Her story ends with a round of applause from nearly everyone, including the king. Whether they choose to believe her remains to be seen, but for now she is safe, if not by trust then by fear, she faced the nation's villain without aid from Analand and stopped an invasion.

A handsome fair haired nobleman bows to her, kisses her hand and takes her to the dance floor once the music begins. A knot of tension forms in your stomach as she grins at the fair haired noble, then twines her hands in his. They move gracefully in sync with each other despite having only just met she follows his lead as they dance. She should not trust him so.

She is just as graceful dancing in the ballroom as she was in the festival of thieves, but now there’s an air of refinement around her. Anywhere she goes she can blend in plain sight just by fitting into almost any social event. A skill you suspect she is not even aware she has.

There was a similar grace in her movement when she defeated you in the forest, a fatal and beautiful dance you recall. It’s a cruel mercy she has, sparing then ensnaring you, you muse as she dances. She's a beguiling enchantress who has a hold on both your heart and your honor. On the bridge in Snatta, you had feared she had cast a spell upon you when she smiled and moved to embrace you, you reached for your blade to keep her back. You had been a fool then, perhaps you still are wishing for this undeserved happiness to last.

She dances with both men and women until the music slows, the dancing becomes more intimate, she makes her way to the banquet. You follow her closely, not wanting to lose sight of her in a crowd this large.

Sharp golden eyes notice you in the shadows, she smiles sipping blood red wine. She points to a plate of food and goblet of wine she’s left for you on the corner of the table. You nod moving quickly you abscond with the meal she has gathered for you. A large silver plate filled with herb crusted mutton, wild boar with what looks like a berry sauce, rare beef wrapped in a flakey crust with a thick gravy; There is also roasted root vegetables and small ostentatious looking pastry cups filled with egg and cheese with fish roe piled on top. You sit on the windowsill in the hall devouring your meal. The rare beef wrapped in a flakey pastry is your favorite.

A portly mid-aged sorcerer in food-stained fine robes greets her with a grand sweeping gesture, almost knocking over a servant with a pitcher of wine. Her beautiful smile becomes a false one that does not reach her eyes.

She talks with him, ignoring his hands that keep wandering over her arms. She smiles politely and returns his wandering hands to him when they reach her shoulders. You cannot make out what she says to him but he laughs loudly and she takes a few calming breaths.

The servants bring more food to the tables giving her a momentary distraction; she slips away from the slovenly man, moving into the hallway just outside of the ballroom.

Grasping her wrist you pull her into the shadows with only a split second of resistance from her. “If you keep lurking by windows you're liable to get pushed out of one.” She chides in a warm, soft voice as she steps into the ledge with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for writing such a pessimistic Flanker but his dialogue and the dialogue in Flankers fate makes me think he would just expect it for a bit until he fully accepted the Analander isn't going to exorcise the ghost.


	2. Threaten to kill anyone else she becomes involved with.

You think of the men and women she danced with, her joy had been evident. Many of them, wealthy, good looking nobles, she could easily land one, when she does she will send you away. You gave her your word you would leave when she asked in the tower. However jealousy is a burning, possessive thing, it is a sin you are unused to. You utter a prayer to Sindla asking for forgiveness. “And if you bed another you're liable for their death.” You promise coldly. If she does send you away for another they will meet their end at your blade.

She gazes into your eyes with warmth a dead assassin should never know. "I want you Flanker. Do you know why I spared you in the forest? There are two reasons. I learned long ago that kindness begets kindness." Her hand slips under your mask, fingers caress your chin. 

“The other reason?” you ask.

"Because you were different. I've never met another soul like you. You-" 

A drunken nobleman's call for a bucket echoes in the hallway, breaking what fragile spell had been weaved between you by her touch. Her hands leave you for starlight, she pulls it into her palms. “ _DOP_ ” she utters then waves the light to the window with the same flick of the wrist she used to throw her die in Kharé. The locked window opens. With another spell, “ _ZEN”_ this time, the medallion around her neck glows and she hovers in mid air then floats up out of the window. 

She offers her hand as she floats in the air. You take her hand and feel your body becoming lighter. She lets go of your hand as your feet touch the windowsill of your shared room, you feel your body shift back to normal. 

The first thing she does once you both reach your room is begin to remove her dress by taking a knife to the bodice laces.

"Are you that eager?" you purr.

"To breathe? Yes." she laughs.

You reach for one of your hidden blades with the intention of helping her cut away the dress. The sound of it leaving its sheath makes her shoulders tense. Her grip loosens on her blade and she relaxes. The memories of the library are still fresh. To think you’d been so easy to sway, to change your contract to her. It’s something that has blackened your honor and perhaps even some of her feelings for you.

**Remove your sword.- Go to chapter 4**

**Ask if she’s afraid.- Go to chapter 5**


	3. Keep quiet in the shadows.

You hold her close against your chest in the shadows, she sighs content to be in your arms. The hall remains deserted and quiet save for the soft echo of the ball's slow music. She hums along, and you recall how she wished for you to be her first dance.

You hold her hand and whisper. "May I have this dance?”

Her eyes light up with joy as she grins. “Yes. Of course.” 

Leaving the windowsill you dance together in the deserted hall. Her arms around your shoulders as you hold her by her waist. The music follows a simple pattern, one you are both nimble enough to follow pressed closely together. It is more a intimate dance than those you watched her perform on the dance floor. Her head leans against your chest. "Thank you Flanker, you have made my night." 

The slovenly man from earlier calls, it for her echoes down the hall. “My darling little heroine, where are you?” The dimly lit hall has hidden you both for now but should he come further down the hall he will surely discover the both of you out in the open.

She says in a quiet but sharply annoyed voice. "Please, tell me you have an escape plan. If I have to listen to that drunk, incompetent sorcerer attempting to explain magic to me while simultaneously telling me I don't know magic and how good I’d under him; I may reconsider my stance on what is a misuse of magic and just summon a snattacat to eat him because he’s that annoying. Sorcerers being able to summon snattacats. Yet another reason to dislike magic and snattacats.

Does she truly wish for him dead? The disdain in her voice was as clear as a bell. You will offer your blade to her gladly free of charge. You will ask her later, for the moment she has tasked you with producing an escape plan.

You motion for her to follow, moving quickly into the serving quarters, which lead to every floor of the castle including the floor where your room is. You hear her breathe a spell, _"YAZ"_ behind you, turning to catch her fading from view pearl rings first. 

Her footsteps are soft but slower than her normal gait as if she’s not accustomed to wearing a dress. When she walks through the door of your shared room in the palace her spell fades.

“Whoever decided it was in fashion for women to gasp for air was a monster.” She grumbles as she tries to untie the intricately laced bodice.

**Offer to help.- Go to chapter 6  
**

**Give her a blade to cut the laces.- Go to chapter 7**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because you hate crowds doesn't mean you can't dance with the person you love.


	4. Remove your sword

After what has transpired between you both in the tower she must be on guard, perhaps even afraid of you.  You remove your sword leaning it against the wall, showing her you mean no harm.  Trust has never been something that came easy to you.  Yet you trust her above all others, you can only hope in time she will trust you as well.  You watch her cut the entire dress away leaving her standing in a thin silk slip.

She reaches out and removes your mask slowly as if she is worried about startling you.  “He is so handsome.” She thinks aloud and you laugh.

She kisses the corner of your mouth. “It is the truth Flanker.”

You chase her lips holding her close, her tongue flicks forward meeting your own.

“If you want, we can have a more intimate celebration of our victory.” She purrs.  You kiss again your tongues meet as you move to undress her completely.  She steps back, just out of reach.  “It’s hardly fair if I’m the only one in the nude.  Perhaps you should shed your armor?” She chimes.

**Undress, Option 1 - Go to Chapter 8**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have an assassin attraction problem.


	5. Ask if she’s afraid

“Do you fear me?” You whisper, dreading the expected answer -yes. You are used to being feared, it is something you strive for; to be unseen until the final moments then you strike fear into the hearts of those you cut down. However now you wish desperately, foolishly for the opposite. That she still does not fear ghosts, that she sees you as a man not the specter you are. 

“No.” She says firmly cutting away the bodice before setting the knife aside on a nearby dresser. 

“Are you worried I will turn my blades on you once more?” Perhaps she is not afraid but rather concerned, you killed Lorag a man you once called a friend. She is far more valuable, far more important to you. You love her as you have never loved another.

“No, I’ve seen the future in the Tower of fAR in Mampang.” She claps her hands. “Today is meant to be a day of celebration. We can talk of unpleasant things tomorrow.” 

“And how should we celebrate then?” You ask curiously watching as she removes the rest of her dress standing before you in a thin silk slip. 

“I can think of a few ways, though most of them involve you not wearing anything....If you wish to, that is.” She smiles softly, patiently waiting for your answer.

**Undress, Option 1 - Go to Chapter 8**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: If you're good with swindlestones and just bored enough to replay Flanker you can **if** the right die options are in your favor get him to tell you he's been hired to kill Lorag and he'll say it's a race who gets there first.


	6. Offer to help

"Do you need some assistance undressing?” you laugh, amused at her frustration. 

“Perhaps we could assist each other?” She purrs seductively.

You grin, she wants the same thing you do. With a few strategic tugs on the laces the bodice falls to the ground. “My dashing hero.” She sighs in relief. She pulls off your mask and kisses you, with a coy smile on her lips.

She sheds the green dress and the slip underneath, leaving her nude as you remove your sword and pack. 

With the slip gone you let your eyes wander. She's built lean with long legs, scars running along her arms and legs, with a few on her stomach and chest. The largest one just below her neck you gave her in the Hills. You notice the tightly strung bodice has left marks, small red lines along her waist and chest.

"Your more than welcome to touch me; Or if you like we could just go to sleep." She smiles at you, like you are just a man not a shadow. She is a treasure you can never hope to earn, only steal away, you muse.

Removing your gloves you gently rub the angry lines. She leans into your hands with a contented breath, the marks slowly fade under your touch. A soft moan escapes her lips as you cup her breasts, your thumbs following the red lines gently until they too fade away. 

**Undress, Option 2 - Go to Chapter 9**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verbal consent is important to my Analander. She understands Flanker is out of his element being more emotionally open and is fine waiting if he isn't ready. Also I'm like low-key in love with how leggy the female Analander's avatar is.


	7. Give her a blade to cut the laces.

You produce a hidden blade, she stills watching your movement cautiously. Her arms tense ready to reach for the stars at a moment's notice.

Twice you have tried to kill her. Her wariness is both wise and understandable, though it stings all the same. You hand her the sheathed dagger hilt first. Which she accepts and uses to cut the entire dress away. The silk slip under it hangs by her left shoulder, the other one cut, falling exposing her breast. It’s something that she notes with an amused glint in her eyes, however she does not move to cover herself. Instead she sheaths your dagger handing it back to you in the same manner you gave it to her. "Your knife has a keener edge than mine." 

You return the blade into its hidden home, removing your mask you kiss her, her mouth has the faint taste of wine.

“Perhaps you should get out of your clothes too.” She whispers against your lips before kissing you again.

"Hold still or I may draw blood." You warn. She stills, tense but trusting you enough to not end her life. You nod with a pleased grin and deftly cut the other side of the slip and it falls around her feet leaving her nude before you.

“Planning to seduce someone tonight?” You chuckle as you let your eyes wander over her newly exposed body. She’s leanly built, made leaner by her journey, she has more scars than you expected a sorceress to have, it adds to her beauty. Physical evidence of what she has lived through, how dangerous she truly is. 

“You, if you wish it.” Her voice filled with sweet promises of things to come.

**Undress, Option 2 - Go to Chapter 9**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played so much No Guilt is Pleasure by MSMR for the wait in the shadows route and Moonrise by WILDWOOD for threaten to kill route.


	8. Undress, Option 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flanker's got a neck fixation and no one can convince me otherwise.

“I would be a fool to say no to such an invitation.” You state truthfully.

She watches as you first remove your pack and hidden weapons then undress. Her slip falls to the ground leaving her nude before you. Your eyes wander over her newly exposed skin. She has far fewer scars than you’d expected, most are on her arms, hands and legs. One of the larger scars runs along her chest just below her collar bone. It's a scar you gave her in the hills. You trace over it with your hand before moving your hand down to her breast. She kisses you with a tenderness no assassin should know. 

Overcome by a twisted desire to claim her as your own before she leaves you; you take over the kiss plundering her mouth, your hand holding her in place by the back of the neck. She matches your intensity almost instantly, her hands move along your neck and chest tracing over muscles and scars. Her hands trace you as if she’s mapping out your chest and stomach moving lower; she wraps her hand around your hardening manhood and she murmurs something appreciatively in her native tongue that you cannot translate at the moment.

Moving down you place wet open mouthed kisses down her neck lingering at her jugular feeling her heartbeat under your lips, she gasps and whines as you focus your attention there licking and sucking at the vulnerable flesh of her neck. You leave several red marks along her neck, they will darken then everyone will see your mark on her; It is a satisfying thought. You give her clavicle a firm, experimental bite; she yelps; however she does not complain, you give her another bite, slightly higher up on her neck she moans and rakes her nails along your back in return.

Cupping her breasts in your hands you tease her nipples with the webs of your fingers, while kissing and sucking the bite marks to ensure that both sides of her neck are marked. Arching into your touch she moans your name with a breathless voice.

You trail your right hand down her stomach to the black curls resting your hand there teasingly for a moment before traveling further to her pearl you stroke just above it, careful to not apply much pressure, just enough to tease her. She gasps and whines your name, her hips grinding against your fingers for more friction. You run your finger along her quim she’s soaked already, you slip a finger inside of her followed by another.

Curling your fingers inside of her slightly you try to find her weakness, as you exploit her bundle of nerves. A keening moan leaves her throat; you have found it, you can’t help but grin. Relentlessly you press the advantage your fingers move within her as you stroke her pearl, her moans soon echo the lavish rooms' stone walls.

She moves to cover her mouth to dampen her cries. “If you try to silence yourself I will stop.” You growl out against her ear, remembering the way the nobles vied for her attention. “I want every little noble you danced with to know whom you belong with…” Even if only for one night, they will know she was yours.

Her arms wrap around your neck and her legs shake as her back bows, she clenches around your fingers. “Flanker! Oh by the Spirits!” Her high pitched moans will likely be heard down the grey limestone hall as she dies her little death at your hand. You continue to thrust your fingers into her drawing out her pleasure. Her hips move of their own accord and she climaxes again at your hand just as her first orgasm starts to ebb.

You pull your hand away from her sex bringing it to you lips. It has been far too long since you've tasted a woman. Her cheeks burn as she watches you lick your fingers clean, your own need throbs demanding relief though you vow to taste her in full before the night is through. But for the moment there are more pressing needs...

You wish to claim her fully but there are dangers; without a contraceptive even if you take care she could end up with child… A shadow is not meant to be a father, you are meant to take lives not take part in making them. “Do you have any preventative measures?” You ask, hoping she does.

She looks at you puzzled for a moment before it dawns on her what you are asking. “I have a tincture I take daily, it helps a few things.” She shifts her gaze down to the floor, slightly as if embarrassed.

“Good.” You whisper with a grin. You pull her right leg up, pinning her against an oak wardrobe forcing her to balance on her toes, her arms grab onto your shoulders for support. 

"Set me down for a minute, please. I do not wish to break a leg having sex." She requests and you do as she asks. Her arms reach for starlight, as both feet find purchase on the burgundy aubusson rug. _“fAL.”_ She breathes her voice, thick with arousal. 

She hovers above the ground, you dislike the of idea magic being used for sex, you open your mouth to voice your disapproval when she smiles enchantingly and wraps her right leg over your waist. Pressing her mons against your hardened manhood. “Now then, where were we?” She asks.

Any potential protests about her use of magic die instantly in your throat as she grinds against you.

You pull her featherlight right leg over your shoulder aligning her quim with your manhood you grip yourself, rubbing your head at her entrance. “Tell me you want me.” You demand.

“You want me.” She smirks.

You bite her firmly on her shoulder in return for her obstinate behavior. She moans a curse, then begs properly. “I want you, please take me Flanker.”

You thrust into her, more quickly than you intended but she doesn’t complain despite your size instead rocking her hips back and forth slowly. You wrap an arm around her waist stilling her movements with ease, it has been too long since you have been with another you calm yourself focusing on the task at hand: Making sure she never forgets what it felt like when you fucked her tonight. 

You pull out halfway and thrust into her holding tight in your arms, pinned against you and the dresser. You thrust faster into her testing her receptiveness to rougher sex, she keens and you go slightly rougher still watching her facial expression closely for any sign of discomfort. 

She nips your shoulder. “Kiss me.” She begs and you accede. She kisses you sweetly, her tongue moving around yours with a slow tenderness, a contrast to how roughly you thrust into her over and over again.

It is the contrast of these two things that brings you close to the end, you manage to pull out, stroking yourself a few times then spilling yourself onto her mons and stomach.

She is freely floating inches above the ground leaning against the dresser covered in your spend a blissful look in her eyes, it’s a bizarre sight but one you rather like despite the unnaturalness of her magical levitation. 

Her right hand closes into a fist then she makes an empty throwing motion, her feet land on the floor and she stumbles, leaning backwards onto the dresser for support. “The only downside to fAL is when you use it during sex you can lose your balance for a few minutes.”

“I see.” You reply before sweeping her up into your arms intent on putting her on the bed where she cannot fall over and injure herself. 

“What are you doing?!” She yips in surprise. 

You realize there was no reason for you to do this, it was purely impulsive, something about the way she was standing had made you want to take her over to the bed where she could not fall. You drop her onto the bed slightly rougher than you had intended. 

“Oh! Thank you.” She blushes.

Walking over to the washbasin you wet and wring a washcloth then give it to her. She cleans away your seed which had painted her body. She hands you the cloth which you use quickly, hissing at the cold then unceremoniously you throw it far away. 

You watch as she unties her hair, her fingers moving swiftly as she undoes the braids. “It is awfully lonely and cold on this big bed all by myself.” She yawns, it has been a long day and you have heard tell that spellcasting can wear down one's endurance, though you do not know the truth of that rumor.

As exhausted as she is, you doubt she would want a second go. Why then has she invited you onto the bed? You cannot help but wonder, watching her unwind the last braid trying to puzzle out the motive behind her words. She regards you with a marked interest pursing her lips together for a moment as if in thought about what to do next. “If only I had a handsome assassin to keep me warm on this chilly night.”

So perhaps she wishes to conserve body heat though there are plenty of blankets in the palace, perhaps practitioners of magic get colder at night than most...She had curled up tightly against you in the High Xamin mountains.

You come over sitting on the edge of the bed unsure of what to do next, normally after a sexual encounter you leave, nothing about tonight is normal, little about her is normal. She lunges pulling you backwards and you end up laying on your back, your head and shoulders resting on her chest.

She makes a disgruntled noise and wriggles out from under you, you find yourself pathetically missing her warmth. She rolls onto her side draping a left arm and leg over you, and you cannot stop the contented sigh that escapes. However two limbs were not as comforting as laying on her chest. Cautiously you reach for her, your right arm snakes around her waist pulling her in closer to you, her chest flush against your arm.

She dozes off quickly and comforted by her warmth you fall asleep soon after. You sleep soundly through the night.


	9. Undress, option 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flanker talks with a cryptic poetic voice, which is so hard to translate into sexual situations without using stupid shit like flesh blade. I tried.

She moves to help you undress but you put your hand up to stop her. She nods, but her eyes make it clear she has misunderstood your intentions. Thinking that you have had second thoughts she nods and moves away, reaching for a dresser drawer she pulls it open.

"I have many hidden weapons, it would be safer for us both if I removed them before I undress.” You explain and she shuts the drawer with a hopeful look in her eyes.

You begin to undress, shedding your pack, weapons then begin to strip your armor and clothes, her golden eyes follow your every move with keen interest. You strip your undershirt and undergarments unceremoniously, she smiles her eyes unabashedly taking in your form.

She saunters to the bed beckoning you to follow, it’s a motion like a siren's song, she is however far more dangerous and beautiful than a siren. 

"Lay back." Her tone is firm halfway between a command and an invitation. You do as she wishes, laying back onto the plushest bed you’ve ever felt.

Her hand traces lightly over the tree branch like lightning scar and the deep sword cut she gave you in the Hills. You watch her, content to let her explore your body for the moment. 

"Admiring your handiwork?” You question, wondering if perhaps her exploration is based on a sense of pride in how thoroughly she defeated you.

“You were the first person I’ve ever used ZAP on. The first person I hit with a spell intending to end them.” She pauses as if in midthought then utters. “The saying lightning never strikes the same place twice is incorrect. Take care to avoid lightning, it is prone to hit a target it has already touched.” Her hands move over lower tracing down other scars, each one a hard lesson in survival. 

Her hands reach the freshly healed claw marks along your side, courtesy of a den of snattacats. She has similar scars around her shoulders and left leg you note. She moves down to your legs with feather light touches, then kisses both hip bones. Her fingers move up your inner thighs only to dart away seconds before she touches your hardening manhood. 

"Tease." You growl out, your voice rough with arousal, she titters warmly at the accusation a pleased smile on her lips. 

Her lips brush against your hard shaft immediately followed by her tongue. Her tongue laves a swirling pattern up to the tip then down to the base and back again. Her left hand moves to her breast fondling it as her right grasps you at the hilt and she takes your head into her mouth; Her mouth is addictively hot and wet. Pushing loose strands of her hair off to the side for a better view her eyes catch yours, there's a mischievous look in her golden eyes. She keeps her gaze locked onto yours as she moves down to the base. You can’t hold back the strangled moan that leaves your throat. She pulls back her right hand encircling the base as her mouth moves up and down with her tongue swirling around your head and mid-shaft. She moans lewdly as she takes you deeper in her mouth again. Her lips touch the base of your shaft and she swallows. 

Her left hand moves down her stomach and her fingers trail past the dark curls moving in a slow rhythmic circular pattern. You watch entranced by her pleasuring herself and you. You have never been a passive lover, and though watching her might have been enough for lesser men she has been with it is not enough for you.

Stilling her hand only to replace it with your own; You marvel at how wet she is, how excited she has become from servicing you as she bucks her hips into your hand. You mimic her earlier pattern on her sensitive pearl. Her mouth and hand moves away from you as she gasps and mewls. 

You pull her down on the bed by her shoulders and move positioning yourself above her. Touching her jugular with your lips you feel her pulse, just as fast as your own you press open mouth kisses along her neck. Your hand ventures back between her legs, you press a finger inside of her quim, she’s soaked but you want her begging when you take her.

She presses feather light kisses on your neck purring your name when your fingers brush over her pearl. Her hands move back to your manhood, this time her grip feels firmer than it had been before, her thumb rubbing gentle circles on your head. You struggle not to thrust into her hand as the pleasure becomes more intense with each swipe of her thumb. 

You reach down stilling her hands, you will not spill yourself in such a pathetic manner, no matter how long it’s been. “Tell me you want me and I am yours.” You breathe, focusing again on the task at hand. Her and her pleasure.

“I want you.” She purrs then whispers softly. “I want you as I have never wanted another.”

You lean down over her, nudging her legs apart to move closer. Her legs wrap around you, she flips you over onto your back. With a wide grin she sits on top of you, grinding her sex against yours. 

Your preference has always been to be the one on top, the one in control, however there is an appeal to this position, you can easily touch her, easily memorize the way she bites her bottom lip as she lines herself up with you.

She lowers herself onto you slowly, her tight, wet quim takes your breath away. She stops mid-shaft adjusting her balance, putting her left hand on your chest and right on your thigh behind her then she rocks her hips further down to the base.

She sets a gentle, torturous rhythm, tilting her hips at slightly different angles until she finds the spot she’s seeking and keens. “By the Spirit Guide! It feels like we were made for each other.” Her movements, thank Sindla, pick up. You thrust up as she starts to sink back down, eager to feel her tight heat in full.

Your hands grip her hips tightly pulling her down quickly each time she begins to move back down. She hisses through her teeth and you still. “You went a bit too deep with that last thrust.” She bends down her arms on either side of your shoulders and kisses you needily before you can apologize. She moves slower rocking her hips in this slightly different position. 

Her left arm moves down to the crux of her thighs; she rubs her bundle of nerves in a circular motion. Her moans become louder, she nips your lip before pulling away for air. 

She tightens around you stilling as she dies her little death, you thrust into her mimicking her earlier movements as best you can trying to draw out her climax to make up for hurting her. Just as her first orgasm starts to ebb you bring her to a second longer one.

You feel yourself careening towards the end, her climaxes trying to milk you, you feel a sudden sense of urgency. You lift her up by her hips pushing her back, you spend yourself in between her thighs and on your stomach.

She looks at you confused. “Why did you-”

“A ghost cannot father a child.” You inform her, almost breathless from your climax.

“I have a tincture, it prevents pregnancies.” Her cheeks flush further. “You did not have to pull out, you could have....”

“Relying solely on a tonic is foolish.” You chide her foolish idea. 

She rolls her eyes and moves off of you getting up off the bed, you feel colder, suddenly alone from her departure. Perhaps you should not have criticized her.

Her feet pad softly over the plush burgundy rug as she moves from the bed to the wash basin, washing herself then getting another rag finally moving to a table with a pitcher. She returns with a wash rag and pours water into a glass, leaving it on the nightstand next to you. She cares enough, or has enjoyed herself well enough to perform these curtacies. You feel a rush of relief wash over you.

You wipe yourself clean as she walks around the bed, laying on her side beside you with a content sigh as you throw the rag over the carpet to the corner of the room. Slowly she scoots over towards you, her right arm draping over your chest she presses a kiss on your shoulder, a content smile on her lips. Her head coming to rest on your chest, no doubt she can hear the quick beat of your heart.

"Health, good food and great company. What more can one ask for?" She purrs contently. You pull her closer holding her tightly; savoring her warm body next to you, while the fleeting moment lasts. Her left hand draws delicate lines along your chest, she kisses your cheek. 

You fall asleep to the sound of her humming an unfamiliar tune, you sleep soundly with her beside you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to give a special thanks to Scrumpadouchus, who’s just awesome. If you haven’t checked out their fic connect I highly recommend doing so.


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